


Help To Move On

by TheClassics4



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClassics4/pseuds/TheClassics4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle has been working to move past what her ex did to her. Elliot should be honored, but he's terrified.</p><p>Elliot and Belle's first time from Quiet Intrigue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help To Move On

**Author's Note:**

> An anon prompted the first time they have sex. There are mentions of her past rape, nothing graphic.

Elliot opened the door slowly. He hadn’t planned for Belle to stay over, but this was where they were ending up.

They’d been in his car, kissing like two teenagers when Belle said she didn’t want to go to dinner anymore. It hadn’t dawned on him what she’d meant and she’d had to ask him if they could move to the back seat. Belle insisted and he refused, so they’d compromised and come back here. His dark, quiet house after a ten minute car ride in silence.

They weren’t kissing anymore, weren’t even touching, and his heart was racing and his knees trembled as he stood.

“So,” Belle said, standing with her hands awkwardly twisting her jacket.

“Yeah,” Elliot nodded. “Do you want tea?” He blurted before he could stop himself. Immediately, he knew he shouldn’t have said it. He was trying to buy more time and Belle knew it. She lifted her eyebrows, but nodded.

“Yeah.”

“K. Okay go ahead and sit,” Elliot stammered as he backed away into the kitchen. Once he was away from her, he ran to the counter, bracing his hands on the marble top.

This had been coming for a while. It wasn’t unexpected. Belle was strong, she was moving past everything her ex had put her through. Of course one day, she would be ready to be intimate with someone again. She refused to let him rule other parts of her life, so why would this be any different?

He should be honored. That Belle was trusting him enough to let him be the one she overcame him with.

But when he thought about it, he could barely breathe. He didn’t want this responsibility. Everything depended on him. If he hurt her, it would be his fault. What if she backed away from him, sobbing as she relived it all? Then what would he do? She wouldn’t want his comfort.

The weight of it all was stifling him. There was so much that could go wrong, and it was selfish of him not to want it. He should want to do this. He should want to help her. If she was ready, he should trust that she was ready. Trust that she knew herself well enough. But did she know him well enough?

Every day, Belle told him how much she loved him. But did she know just how terrified he was? How selfish? How he cared more about what he would do if things went wrong rather than what she would need?

God, he was a selfish bastard.

“Elliot?”

Belle’s voice made him spin from the counter. She bit her lip as he fumbled for something to say. “Tea! Right,” he said and scurried around the island to the pantry.

“Do you,” she said, speaking slowly, “want to do this?”

When he looked over his shoulder, he saw her looking at the counter with her eyebrows furrowed. Elliot abandoned the pantry. Neither of them wanted tea.

“I get the feeling you don’t want to,” she tried to force a smile, but still couldn’t look up at him.

“No, I…” Belle looked up at him and he had to swallow, “Did Geoff—Dr. Madden say this was alright?”

“He said when I was ready, I would know.”

“I don’t want to do anything wrong,” he managed to tell her.

When she spoke, Belle sounded very sure, “You won’t. Elliot, please. I love you…I need this.”

She’d been moving closer to him and she took his hand. Pulling him closer, she met his lips with her. There was nothing now that excited him. In the car, he was straining against his body, fighting to keep himself from excitement, but now, he could barely quiet his brain as he kissed her.

Belle pressed closer to him, sliding her hand up his arm. He had to trust her.

“Upstairs?” he asked, leaning back for a breath.

“No…no, not a bed,” she licked her lips as she thought for only a second. “The couch.”

“What, no. Not the couch,” he added when she leaned back. He didn’t know where else they could do it, but he wasn’t just going to quickly fuck her on the couch. He knew enough about women to know they needed romance.

“Wait here,” he said, easing away from her. As he went upstairs, he heard her scoot a chair out. She seemed calm enough. If only he had half the courage she did. He passed through into his bedroom, but walked straight to the bathroom. He didn’t keep many condoms and he wasn’t even sure if he had any. Would Belle send him to go buy some? Or would she be alright with postponing their night?

Secretly, he hoped for the latter. He opened the drawer, though, and saw two sitting right on top of the Band-Aids. Sighing, he picked them up. He remembered now. David. He’d warned Elliot this would come and that he wouldn’t be prepared. So he’d given Elliot the condoms and they’d never spoken of it since.

It was odd where they were. Elliot could have sworn he’d put them in a Kleenex box. It wasn’t like him to leave them so openly displayed. He shook his head. Ben must have found them. Probably out of curiosity. Or by accident. At least, that was what he chose to believe. He couldn’t remember how many David had given him, but there were still two there.

Though he knew he would only need one, he still took both of them—David’s words about him not being prepared irritated him, but stayed in his mind. In the back of the drawer, he knew there was lubricant. That wasn’t from David.

Elliot debated for a moment about whether to take it down, but eventually decided against it and closed the drawer. He made a face as he realized that Ben had probably seen that as well.

Ben knew about sex. He’d spoken to his son about it a few years ago, but he would have to force himself not to feel uncomfortable when he saw his son next.

No. He shouldn’t be thinking of his son right now. Not when Belle was downstairs and they were about to _have sex_.

God, he couldn’t even think it without fumbling.

Before going to the bed, he secured the door tightly. The blankets wouldn’t offer much, but they were something. He went as slowly as he could, wadding the comforter and sheets in his arms, then adding two pillows. His fist was clenched somewhere inside the bundle, the wrapped condoms already wet from his sweaty palms.

Belle waited for him, sitting at the table. Without meeting her eyes, he set the heap of blankets on the floor and started to clear way the table. The tablecloth could stay, but Ben’s corrected tests, bills, and the single glass had to be carried over to the counter. Belle had risen from her chair, watching him.

Carefully, he picked through the blankets. It was silly to be embarrassed about the condoms inside—she was going to have to see them eventually—but the thought of them accidentally falling out onto the floor, made him blush.

So he pocketed them as he shook out the bedding and draped it over the tabletop. It looked a bit slippery and before Belle could answer, he pushed the edge to slide it against the wall. “Will, uh, this be alright?” he asked, setting the pillows at the far end of the table.

“Yeah,” Belle said, grinning as she looked at what he’d made. “It’s perfect.”

She took a step toward him and lightly pressed her lips to his. This was a good place to start. They’d done this before. Her lips were familiar to his. Even when her tongue prodded into his, it was still calm.

But she was closer than usual. Her chest brushed against his when she slipped an arm around his shoulder. Her feet planted close, her thigh between his legs.

Suddenly very aware of that, he had to pull away. He needed a minute before this went any further. It had been years since the last time he’d done this. The last years of his marriage had been free of any kind of intimacy. He could still remember a woman’s body, but he closed his eyes. He’d to touch her, but would Belle want light touches or firm rubs? How sensitive would she be?

His wife had preferred rough sex—rougher than he was able to provide her. In general, he was not rough or aggressive, and Madeline had always let him know just how incompetent he was. But he thought Belle would prefer him more gentle. He was never particularly good at this, but if he wasn’t held to his wife’s expectations, he might actually be able to satisfy her.

Belle watched him.

“Okay.” He swallowed and went to kiss her again. She met him for just a moment before muttering they should take their clothing off and stepping away again.

It was clear that he was meant to disrobe first when she seated herself on the edge of the table and watched him. So he cleared his throat and started on the top button. Belle sat quietly. Just watching as he slowly pulled his shirt from his shoulders.

His pants went next. It still left him in only his underwear and Belle still watched him. Her eyes were on his white briefs, waiting for him to finally remove them as well. Finally, he sighed and tugged them down.

He cursed as he realized his socks still remained on his feet. Immediately, he bent to pull them off and he stepped out from his underwear. Belle looked at him for only a moment, her teeth nibbling her lip then stepping down from the table.

For the first time, Belle actually looked more awkward than he did. She never looked at him as she let her hair from its ponytail and then slipped out of her dress. She held the material in front of her for a moment. Then she sighed and dropped it.

Belle was beautiful. But he’d never seen her look so…small. She had always been tiny—short, slight—but now, she was somehow even littler. Vulnerable and timid, and yet, she still reached behind her to unhook her bra without second thought.

It was plain black. He should have appreciated it, appreciated her taking it off. If he could have managed to lift his eyes from the floor, he knew he would have.

“Elliot,” Belle said quietly.

That was the sign for him to look up. He grit his teeth and forced his gaze upward. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t hiding herself. His uncertainty paused when she took a step toward him. It had been a very long time since he’d seen a naked woman and when she reached up to him, his heart was beating wildly.

He could barely take his eyes off her rounded breasts and he thanked God when, at last, there was a stirring in his groin. Her skin looked as if it would be soft, warm.  The thought of anyone hurting her disgusted him. She was perfect. How could _he_ done what he’d done? How could anyone have ever hurt her?  Would she even let him touch her breasts?

“Uh,” The moment Belle reached her other hand to his waist, he panicked. Backing away from her, he bent down to the floor where his jeans lay and fumbled around trying to find the right pocket. This needed to go quickly, but the crippling fear overpowered his arousal. Whatever erection he’d had was already starting to seep away.

“Right.”  Belle mumbled when Elliot finally wrestled the condom free from his pants. At least when he put it on, he might be able to rouse himself a bit by hand first.  

He flushed when he had to lift himself in attempt to roll the condom on. It was embarrassing. The sight of Belle would be enough to arouse any other man. He should be erect.

 “Goddamnit,” he cursed, wrapping his hands around himself. He glanced at her, “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. She wasn’t looking away and Elliot had to turn to pull on himself.

After a few fruitless tugs, he hung his head. He braced himself with his free hand on the table and gave another exasperated squeeze. When he felt Belle’s hands on his shoulder, he shook his head. “I’m—”

Her hands wrapped around his stomach, bringing herself pressed against him. Elliot looked back at her and she gave him a smile before kissing his shoulder and rearranging her arms to fit around his stomach. He closed his eyes again.

Belle’s lips stayed at his back, but they moved down his shoulder blade and the ridge of his spine. Her hands moved lower and he swallowed as his blood started to flow again.

Though she didn’t actually reach between his legs, her fingers and his were enough to have him stiff. Quickly, he slipped the condom over himself and turned. Belle met his lips happily, keeping her body pressed against his. Her kisses were eager and he chanced letting his hands move along her arms then down her sides.

The skin was softer than he thought, softer than he ever remembered touching. He’d felt Belle’s arms before, kissed her, but it was different when they stood so close with no barrier at all between them.

But then, Belle flinched away from him. Elliot snapped his hand back. It had somehow found its way between her legs and she clamped them together. “I’m sorry,” he said urgently.

“No, I—it’s…” Belle fidgeted uncomfortably, “Your hands. Not there.”

Elliot nodded, “Of course.”

Forcing a smile, Belle nodded back at him. Instead of reaching for her, he rubbed his hands together. “…I need one more thing,” he said and left her standing there once again.

The light touch had proved to him he’d been wrong. She was not ready for this at all, almost completely dry and if she didn’t want him to touch her, he would need the lubrication after all. It would make it even more awkward—it wasn’t at all romantic or sexy—but it was what she needed.

The door to his room was still open and when he entered his bathroom, he avoided looking in the mirror. Seeing himself naked, half-hard while wrapped in latex would only give more power to his doubts. In only a few seconds, he had the tube and was hurrying down the stairs.

Belle was sitting back on the tabletop when he came in. Her eyes instantly went to the lube in his hands. Elliot stopped in front of her and handed it over.

“You just have this lying around?” she asked and glanced up at him with a smirk.

Clearing his throat, he only nodded. He had dry hands, but Belle didn’t need to know that.

Her smirk disappeared when she flicked the cap open and squeezed a bit into her palm. She peered up at him before rubbing it on her fingers and reaching between her legs. Elliot felt like he shouldn’t watch it. He couldn’t seem to turn. The lube itself wasn't sexy, but the way Belle’s fingers glided over her folds, the way she adjusted her legs wider, opening herself to his view, made his heart beat faster.

His member was growing to a full erection quickly. “A bit inside too,” he told her, his voice rasping in his throat as he watched. Belle barely looked up when he spoke, but listened and eased a finger inside to spread the gel.

The breath caught in his throat with a small whimper making Belle look up. Her eyes paused at the sight of his rigid length. Slowly, she pulled her fingers from her body, “Okay.”

He stepped forward, gently taking her shoulders. When he tried to ease her back, she put a hand behind her to brace herself.

“Not on my back,” she said quietly. “Just here.” Easing forward, she wrapped her legs around his hips, but he shook his head. This was just as crude as the backseat of his car or the couch.  So he hitched her legs up further and clambered onto the table with her. With only a bit of awkward arranging, they were able to lay side by side.

“Just tell me what’s alright,” he said.

She nodded and took his hands, placing one on her outer thigh and one to her breast. Elliot licked his lips, waiting to see if she would pull away. When she didn’t, he flexed his fingers around her and leaned in to press his lips to hers.

Careful not to touch her, he reached between them and lined the tip of him up with her opening. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. Go ahead,” she said, wrapping her arms tighter around him.

Belle clung to his shoulders as he moved closer. The tip of him barely grazed her and she tensed, closing her opening completely. He pressed his lips to her neck and trailed kisses until he was to her lips and could look at her. “Sweetheart, we don’t have to do this. Not right now.”

“No, I want to,” she said, almost too quickly. Her fingers were in his hair, opening and closing around the roots anxiously. “Just, uh, let me look at you.”

“Okay.” He ran his fingers up her thigh, trying to get her to relax. Right then, she was so tense he might be able to nudge inside, but he’d never get more than an inch before it would undo him. He did not need that. _She_ did not need that.

This needed to be a pleasant experience for her. He needed to bring her pleasure. It was a feat he wasn’t sure if he would be able to accomplish, but it would never happen if he only lasted five seconds. It had happened before and had been the most humiliating experience of his marriage. He could do better with Belle.

He slipped the hand which had been at her chest along her stomach. She tensed again, but when he stopped just below her navel, she leaned back into him.

“Just relax, Belle,” he breathed and slowly started massaging the flesh between her hips. When her restless fingers finally stilled, he tried again.

Her breath caught, but he’d managed to get almost an inch of him engulfed. Belle’s eyes darted from where she merged with him to his face. Her inner walls held tight and released in an excruciating rhythm. Elliot leaned his face toward hers, pressing his nose into her cheekbone, trying to keep himself from moving. “Tell me when.”

Belle leaned away from him, forcing him back. She was watching him, but she nodded, “Okay.”

He gave her a light kiss and slowly shunted his hips forward. She no longer watched his face, but kept her eyes glued to his length slowly sinking into her.

It was all he could do not to let himself explode inside her. Elliot could barely remember being inside anyone. He couldn’t remember what it was to do this with his wife. It hadn’t been like this. Belle’s body was enough. They were just lying there and it was enough for him to be on the brink of coming.

The muscles in his stomach clenched with the effort of keeping his pleasure at bay. He was barely sheathed inside her, barely connected and already he was fighting off his release.

“I’m okay,” Belle said, misinterpreting his stillness. “You can do it.”

“Belle,” he breathed. “I don’t think I can.”

He groaned when Belle adjusted herself, bending him and pressing into the sac between his legs. Pleasure jolted through him, commanding his hips back and forward in rocking, fluid motion. Over and over again he gasped her name, trying to get the words to apologize for what he was doing.

It finally ebbed away, leaving him panting and exhausted.  He winced. “Belle…” He scrambled away, tripping off of the table when he saw tears on her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Belle. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Belle took his hand and he saw that she was smiling. “Stop. You were perfect. Everything was perfect.”

 


End file.
